


Under the Rose Bushes

by ZabbieQ



Category: Goosebumps - All Media Types
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Family, Gen, Puppet Jillian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25152376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZabbieQ/pseuds/ZabbieQ
Summary: [AU] Forced to be good against his will, Slappy is given a chance to be evil again
Relationships: Slappy the Dummy/Jillian Zinman
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Under the Rose Bushes

**Author's Note:**

> This fic rides on _Bride of Chucky_ logic. You have been warned.

There was only so much a talking dummy could do to help a sybil get ready for a weekend trip to visit her niece, but Slappy tottered after Clarissa the Crystal Woman, trying to be of some use. Clarissa seemed more scatterbrained than usual: Slappy caught her putting a pair of socks she meant to wear into the refrigerator next to the milk, and she packed her swimsuit only to panic because she went to her chest of drawers and couldn't find said suit.

"Oh, dear. Oh, dear," Clarissa murmured as she nearly poured her fresh pot of coffee onto Slappy's head instead of into her travel mug. "Am I forgetting anything?"

( _Your brain, for starters!_ )

Slappy smiled helpfully up at her. "Did you grab your lunch for the bus?"

"Thank you, Slappy dear," she sighed with relief, spinning toward the refrigerator with the coffee pot still in her hand. Grabbing the square lunchbox from the refrigerator, which Slappy's wife had prepared for her that morning, she laid it beside her purse. "What else?"

"Got your toothbrush?"

"Yes! ...No." She made one step toward the door and then nodded affirmatively. "Wait, yes. Jillian came by my room and reminded me to pack it."

( _Like it's gonna be much help. I've smelled wet dogs that reek less than your breath!_ )

"On the bright side, if you really need anything, you can ask Sue to drive you to Walmart or something," Slappy pointed out.

"True, true." Clarissa distractedly reached for the cupboard. "Now, I just need to pour myself a mug of coffee and—"

"Already did that," Slappy reminded her, motioning toward the counter.

"So I did!" she laughed, returning the pot to the warm coffee maker. "Traveling always makes me nervous, but it's Sue's birthday, and you gotta do what you can for family, right?"

"Right."

( _And some family trees should be uprooted_.)

"Is the taxi here yet?"

"Should be any minute now," said Slappy, glancing at the Felix the Cat clock by the refrigerator. He followed her to the door where Clarissa put her suitcase, purse, lunch, and mug on the bench beside her shoe holder.

"Now where's Jillian?" Clarissa asked, looking round.

"Backyard."

"I'll go out and say goodbye to her now. Don't want to risk the taxi driver seeing either of you." She gave him a pat on the head. "Thanks for the help, Slappy."

"I do what I can."

( _You're the perfect puppet, dummy_.)

Slappy, discreetly but firmly, smacked his head, fighting off the dark thought but refusing to acknowledge it any further.

As Clarissa jogged to the backyard, Slappy moved her mug, which was dangerously close to the edge, and retreated back to the kitchen to finish off the remaining coffee and throw the wet grounds away. By the time he had stirred cream in his cup, Clarissa had come back in, and the taxi driver had knocked on the front door. Clarissa gave Slappy a last goodbye and went to meet the driver, who greeted her with a professional tone. Slappy listened as the driver carried Clarissa's luggage onto the front porch, and the door closed.

And the sound of the lock carried down the hall like delicious music.

Slappy's wooden smile widened. A weekend of blissful privacy with the prettiest girl on the planet had finally begun.

He left his cup of coffee on the low table and teetered his way toward the backyard to look for his bride. Being a puppet, he had never been able to offer Jillian a house of their own, nor could he take her for a night on the town. The solitude which came with Clarissa's absence became extra sweet, and he had more than a few ideas of how they could make the most of their weekend.

( _Oh, like you even know what fun is anymore_.)

Not that he disliked Clarissa. When they had first started living with her, Jillian had wanted nothing to do with Slappy, bitter with how he had ruined her life and stolen her chance at pursuing her dreams. Even with the spell cast upon him, Slappy had not suffered enough in her way of thinking. It had been Clarissa who had advised her to learn to tolerate him; after all, Slappy was no longer dangerous. ( _She de-fang you. I've seen worms with more teeth — and more backbone!_ ) And so Jillian had tolerated him. And tolerance led to stiff small talk. And small talk led to conversations. And conversations led to reluctant understanding, then respect. And respect became friendship, which began to blossom into — ( _Sap! Sap! Slappy is a sap!_ )

Slappy slammed his fist against his head, harder than he meant. Pain shot through the hollow space, causing his vision to cloud momentarily, but he kept moving forward. ( _Goody Two-Shoes can't handle the truth!_ ) His leather shoes tapped loudly against the tiles as he strode through the mud room to the backyard. Down the steps. Past the herb gardens Clarissa kept for magic and cooking. Past the flamingo lawn ornaments which had been a gift from Clarissa's niece. All the way to the greenest corner where the three rose bushes stood, different sizes as they had been planted different years.

The summer sun had coaxed the pink buds into bloom. Their fragrance wafted to Slappy as he drew near, as if greeting him. He touched the stems.

Finally, that internal voice fell silent. As usual.

"Slappy?"

Without turning his head, he held out his hand to his bride. Jillian took it and accompanied it with an embrace, sliding her wooden body against his own. She laid her raven head upon his shoulder. The green turtleneck on her petite figure felt soft against his hands.

Only a few years ago, Jillian had been a young human woman, tall and thin with a doll face that had caught the old Slappy's attention in a way no other female of any species could match. Even after Clarissa had reluctantly changed Jillian into a puppet, his bride looked beautiful, especially once her round, wooden green eyes started sparkling with affection instead of utter revulsion whenever she looked at Slappy.

Jillian nestled against her husband's neck, tapping her carved lips against his paint. She raised her head to kiss his stiff cheek next, and she squeezed him tenderly.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?"

"I am now," he replied, closing his eyes to relish the feel of her against him.

( _You sap! Four years with a broad, and you're just her simpering puppy dog! If you were half the man you used to be, you'd show her who the slave in this marriage is—!_ )

Slappy opened his eyes, treating himself to a view of the nearby pink petals. Then he lowered his gaze to the earth, and he made himself conjure up a clear image of what lay beneath each of the three rose bushes.

The old Slappy had no rebuttal.

His hands ran over Jillian's back, and he could feel through the fabric of her turtleneck the wooden seam which ran down what used to be her spine. Ordinarily, a hole sat there to allow a puppeteer access to her hollow body. Now, for the fourth time in their marriage, it had closed on its own accord, and it would not open again until...

He straightened himself. He gently turned Jillian's face to meet his and claimed a peck which she returned.

She gripped the lapels of his gray suit. "Are you sure you're okay?" She scanned his face.

He nodded. "I am bound by magic not to lie to you, darling," he reminded her hollowly.

Her tiny hand touched his cheek. "But you can still misread a situation, sweetheart," she countered. "You can tell me what's happening inside your head."

Slappy leaned into her touch. ( _Who's enslaved who, huh?!_ ) He focused his attention on her stiff but always gentle hand. A happy contrast to when he first courted her all those years ago. The old Slappy had scared her, repulsed her, but the old Slappy hadn't cared about her feelings, seeing her as his property as well as his mate. She would have never loved the old Slappy, which was why he was so lucky to have those winning green eyes look at him now with such adoration and devotion.

( _Either way you'd've gotten her to the altar. My way was funner_.)

"Some days he's louder than others," Slappy whispered. He didn't have to tell her who "he" was.

Jillian stroked his face. "Do you want me to try looking through Clarrisa's spell books again? She bought all those new ones."

"Nah, I can manage him." He bobbed his head toward the pink roses. "The longer I'm out here with them, the less insults he can think of."

She nodded, and they both gazed at the blossoms for a long moment.

At length he said, "As evil as I used to be, I always wanted a family. You know, a better one than a dead toymaker and a (more) evil twin. In his own way, he's protective of them." He gestured to the bushes. "That's why he shuts up when I'm out here."

Jillian reached for his hand, still watching the bushes as a zephyr rose up to rustle the pretty petals. Her sliding jaw clicked slightly, and Slappy did not like the clouded look that overtook her. He reached over and glided his hands down her back, resting them on her tiny hips. When she turned her head, he offered a mischievous grin.

"He also doesn't protest when I'm in the middle of kissing a pretty doll," he purred.

She lowered her thick artificial eyelashes. "Well, I'm all about doing good deeds…" she bantered coyly, wrapping her arms around his narrow neck again.

Once their lips pressed together in a less-than-chaste kiss, he felt the old Slappy finally settle into silence. There were some things even his repressed evil self enjoyed about this conjugal arrangement.

* * *

After a pleasant time in the garden, Slappy volunteered to fix lunch. A sudden change came over Jillian's green eyes.

"That reminds me," she said, taking his hand. "I got an idea today. Follow me."

She led him into the mud room and told him to wait. She teetered toward the kitchen and returned with one of the plastic straws they kept in the pantry. She handed it to him and stepped toward the corner which had a few shelves with gardening equipment. To Slappy's horror, she grabbed the handle of a large container of plant growth and began to tug it out.

"What _are_ you doing?" He hurried forward, nearly toppling on his face. "You shouldn't be moving heavy stuff, doll."

Despite being a magical puppet, Jillian did not possess Slappy's level of super strength. His wife, however, flashed him a smile.

"It's not that heavy. It's only half full," she insisted. As Slappy reached her, she stopped and unscrewed the top.

"Is that for the garden?" he asked.

"No." She took back the straw from him. "For me."

"I prefer Pepsi myself, but each to their own."

"Don't give me that look. If I was going to lose my marbles, it would've happened a lot sooner." She touched her flat stomach. "See, I figured this: plant growth formula, wood. It's like taking prenatal vitamins, right? Couldn't hurt to try."

"I guess." He drifted closer.

Despite her resolve, she screwed up her face in preparation. She pursed her lips and took a tentative sip. The formula receded down the straw, and she smiled. "Actually, it's not that bad."

"Anything tastes good when you don't have a tongue," he quipped. "Can I try some?"

She held out the straw for him to take, but instead he swooped in and kissed her lips. She giggled against him, turning her head away.

"If I did something like that, you'd tease me for being corny," she said, but she leaned into him as his arms wrapped around his waist.

"If you did that, we wouldn't be having this conversation because we'd be otherwise occupied, my darling," he purred in her ear.

She gave him a playful smile. "And talk like that is why I'm drinking plant formula to begin with, you know."

His hands found the closed seam on her back, massaging it gently. Only another few months. Then they would either have a new addition to their family or…

He tightened his hold on her.

From within the hallway, the chimes for the doorbell rang. Slappy ignored it, but Jillian curiously glanced at the door.

"Clarissa's barrier spells _are_ in place, right?"

"I cast them myself this time," Slappy assured her, nuzzling her wooden cheek.

"Oh, good," she said with unmasked relief, sinking against him.

The bell rang again.

"Hopefully it's nothing important," murmured Jillian.

"Probably Girl Scouts selling cookies or something," decided Slappy. "Anyone who'd want to see Clarissa has been told she'll be gone for the weekend."

A loud rap followed, a heavy hand upon the wooden door.

"What if someone broke down on the road?" wondered Jillian, sliding out of Slappy's hold.

" _We_ couldn't help them, doll."

"But we could anonymously call a tow truck," she countered, tugging his sleeve. "Let's look through the window."

Hand in hand, they toddled down the hall toward the narrow side window beside the door. A blue curtain offered privacy, and Slappy released Jillian's hand to take a peek, barely lifting the fabric.

He promptly lowered it again. He blinked.

Jillian's wooden eyebrows shot up. " _What?_ " she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Stay behind me," he said softly. Although the barrier spells were in place, he didn't want to take any chances, not when it came to his bride and family. Jillian shuffled toward the staircase, gripping the wooden pillars of the banister. With her at a safe distance, Slappy opened the door.

A Horror stood on the front porch — a huge, purple monster with horns, wavy hair and sharp teeth in the wide smile he offered the two puppets.

"Hey, there! You're Slappy, right?" the Horror said. "I got something you might like to hear."

* * *

Jillian stayed beside the staircase, protectively holding her belly even though the barrier spells made invasion impossible.

"Can I come in?" asked the Horror.

"Not by the hairs on your chinny chin chin," said Slappy. It wasn't an outright insult (the Horror's face was covered in purple fur), so the reform spell allowed him to say it.

The Horror gave a fake, flattering laugh. "Eh, that's pretty good. They said you were a funny guy. Is that Jillian, your wife?" he asked, nodding at the withdrawn doll behind Slappy.

"Who are you?" Jillian asked, sounding slightly faint. Being married to a once evil puppet and living with a ditsy but well-meaning witch was one thing; an actual hulking monster was clearly another.

The monster jabbed a thumb at his large chest. "Name's Byron. I'm an employee at HorrorLand."

"The theme park?" returned Jillian, sounding incredulous. "How do you even know about Slappy?"

"You look thirsty," Slappy said abruptly to Byron. "It must have been a long trip for you, huh?"

"I have my ways of traveling," Byron replied.

Slappy did not comment but turned to Jillian. "Doll, could you get our guest a water bottle? I think there are some cold ones still in the fridge."

Jillian looked at him in surprise, but her eyes also regarded him with trust. After four years of marriage, she knew her magical husband did not do these sorts of things arbitrarily, and that spousal understanding made her pretty face calm.

She nodded. "Alright. Be right back." She locked her knees and made her careful way to the back of the house.

Byron watched her go before giving Slappy a thumbs up. "She's a real cutie. You're a lucky guy."

Slappy folded his arms, leaning against the door post. He stared up at Byron with a neutral but firm expression.

"Sooooo, Byron," he said slowly, "just so we're clear, I've seen the Monster Channel before — used to live with a vampire for about a week before she tried to kill me — and I know all about the dark side of HorrorLand that the human tourists don't know about. And if you don't leave, I'll be more than happy to evoke some Castle Doctrine on your hairy rump and keep my queen safe."

Byron's chipper smile faded into a hard smirk. He folded his thick arms, shifting his weight to one hip. "Will the Crystal Woman's spell let you do something so violent? I know you have the toymaker's evil inside you, but Jillian's wish sounded pretty specific."

Slappy lifted a slow eyebrow. "Somebody's been snooping where they shouldn't."

"A Horror has his ways," Byron replied. He dipped a finger toward Slappy. "I know you're not a good little boy right now because of some noble love for your wife. If she hadn't made her wish, you'd still be a black-hearted scoundrel, trying to make her your slave."

( _He's right, you know_.)

"Jillian won't mind if I do what it takes to keep her safe," Slappy replied coolly. "There's barrier spells on this house, and I can manipulate them as I please."

"That's fair." Byron raised his hands. "And, hey, no judgments. You're clearly enjoying yourself in her company if those rose bushes in the backyard are any indication." He winked at the puppet. "Three in four years. You have both my condolences for your loss and my respect for your abilities, little man."

( _...He's dead meat_.)

For once, his nobler sentiments aligned with his darker self.

Slappy pointed toward the road, keeping his glare fixed on Byron's yellow eyes. "Leave."

Byron didn't budge. "You and Jillian are afraid you'll have to plant a fourth bush, aren't you?" he said, and his tone switched to something closer to empathy. "But if there's a way to avoid another heartbreak for yourself and your bride, would you listen to it?"

Slappy narrowed his eyes, studying him silently.

"There are certain methods," Byron continued, "which I can share with you. If you hear me out, little man."

Soft footsteps arose behind him, and soon Jillian stood beside him, hugging a water bottle in her tiny arms.

"Is this okay?" she asked.

Slappy didn't tear his gaze off the Horror, but he found Jillian's hand. "Darling, Byron has something he wants to share with us."

* * *

He wouldn't let the Horror come into the house, and he and Jillian didn't step out. Byron placed one of the patio chairs in front of the door and settled down. He twisted open the water bottle and raised it toward the dolls in a toast.

Jillian looked at Slappy. "So, even though he's from a theme park, that's not a costume, is it?" she muttered to him.

Slappy gave her a meaningful look.

She nodded. "I don't know why I even get surprised anymore."

After Byron took a long, deliberate sip, he smiled at the two.

"Do you know Sue Sayer?" he asked.

Slappy quirked his brow. "Clarrisa's niece?"

"Yeah, my sister was in the same potions class as her, and they stayed in touch," Byron replied.

 _Starting out with something we can't verify but sounds plausible and makes a connection_ , Slappy noted.

"I got to meet Clarissa when she came for Sue's birthday party last year," Byron continued. "She mentioned you two, and then Sue started showing me all the Slappy websites."

Jillian frowned. "Say that again?"

"Didn't Clarissa tell ya?" returned Byron, sounding surprised. "Slappy's famous — well, _in_ famous, amirite? All of your former slaves have been posting their sob stories on the web. Some of it is just teenagers spreading silly creepypastas, but a lot of it is from primary sources." Byron showed his teeth in another big smile. "Is it true you survived having a sandwich shoved inside your head?"

"I'm retired, you know," Slappy said, having a vague suspicion as to where this was going.

"Sure, sure," Byron agreed, waving his huge purple hand. "It's just amazing to find out what just one puppet has been able to do. Amy Kramer and Jimmy O'James are particularly vocal about you in the fandom — or _hatedom_ I should say." He laughed at his own joke. "Do they know you're married and reformed?"

"We never got around to exchanging emails," Slappy said dryly.

"Clarissa also mentioned — in passing — a few things about your…" (he paused, tapping his purple chin in search for the right word) "...unique biology as magical dolls. My congratulations, Bee-Tee-Dubs, on your upcoming happiness," he added, grinning at Jillian. "So, how did you two meet?"

She twisted away. "It's complicated," she said quietly.

Slappy put his arm in front of his wife. "Why are you here, Byron?"

"I'm here because my friend needs your help," the Horror replied. "His name is Karloff Mennis, but we all call him The Menace. As a joke."

"I'm sure," Jillian said dryly.

Byron shook a large talon toward her. "Hey, Mr. Mennis is a brilliant scientist. He was working for Panic Park before it went missing in the 1970s. Ever heard of it?"

Both dolls shook their heads.

"Well, it went missing," he repeated, "and Mr. Mennis and the rest of the park are trapped. In an alternate dimension."

"For real?" Jillian asked, knitting her wooden brow in disbelief.

"Said the human girl turned into a puppet," replied Byron with a wink.

"What does that have to do with us?" Slappy asked, still waiting for the catch.

"Mr. Mennis is a scientist, remember. He found a way to communicate with Earth, but he and the park guests can't return. He thinks the best way to get the trapped people back here is to have some of the bravest people on the planet get really scared — really, _really_ scared." He spread his arms wide for emphasis. "He thinks it will work — but, see, he needs somebody to help scare those bravest of the brave. And we hear you're an expert, Slappy."

Slappy's expression didn't change. "Again, I'm retired."

( _Figures. Finally something up my alley, and I can't do any unbridled evil because of this dumb spell_.)

"But the guests in the park have been trapped for decades!" Byron protested. "They need someone with your skills to get them back to their families."

Jillian took her husband's hand. "Mr. Mennis really wants to use _fear_ to save people?"

"He can explain it better than me. I'm just the gofer."

"How did you get that cushy position?" Jillian questioned dryly.

"He recruited me since people from Earth can go there and back, but the trapped folks can't return home without his machine." Byron leaned forward, looking at Slappy. "Really, you're doing a good deed, but you have to act like you mean to scare so that your target will believe you're a threat."

Slappy gave Byron an appraising look. "Who is my target?"

"Well, with all the humans who you've terrorized over the years, we had a wide buffet of candidates. But we managed to narrow it down to a few — with your recommendation, we'll send out an invite to the bravest." He slipped a hand into his shirt pocket and pulled out a folded-up paper. Clearing his throat, he began to read, "Do you remember Lindy and Kris Powell, Amy Kramer, or Trina and Dan O'Dell?"

Slappy straightened. " _Them_?"

Jillian glanced at him, arching her painted brow. "Are they _that_ memorable out of everyone you've terrorized?"

"For different reasons," he muttered.

"I should say so," said Byron. "The Powell twins tangled with one of the other dummies built by your maker before they got to you, right? You gaslit Amy Kramer, nearly getting her family to send her to a shrink who might have put her on unnecessary medication. The O'Dell siblings, well, they had a lot of experience with living dummies, don't they? Point is, they've all proven themselves to be brave, and if they see you again, that bravery can be used for the greater good."

( _I could put those freaks in situations where they have to be VERY brave, if they didn't lose their marbles first_.)

Slappy averted his eyes. "I didn't say I'd do it."

"And I didn't say you wouldn't have proper incentive," Byron replied. "Mr. Mennis doesn't just tinker in science. He knows some magic. Including the kind that brings toys to life."

"So?"

A triumphant gleam crossed Byron's face, like a salesman who was sure he'd be walking away with a juicy commission. "He thinks he might be able to help you two out. Regarding your current bundle of wooden joy, to be precise."

Jillian touched her stomach, staring at Byron.

"If Slappy comes to HorrorLand — with you, of course, ma'am — and scares his target, then when Panic Park is back on earth, Mr. Mennis will give you the magic you need to bring a healthy baby into the world."

Slappy met Jillian's gaze. Her wooden lips pressed together, looking like she wanted him to refuse Byron, but he also saw hesitance, a hint of hope she barely dared to believe in. Slappy knew her longing. To trust Mennis was an awful risk, but the rewards if Slappy succeeded...

He glanced at Byron. "We'll think about it. Good day."

Byron gave a lazy salute. "I'll be back tomorrow at nine for your answer."

* * *

As the sun slipped behind the woods in the backyard, Slappy had date night underway. Microwave pizza and Jillian's favorite so-bad-it's-good monster film waited for them, and he had a pack of UNO cards for them to play with while Jillian giggled at the hammy acting and budget cuts. To them it was romantic. After all, they had bonded over watching B movies.

Jillian manipulated the remote, already grinning before the music played on the DVD's main menu. Slappy watched her contently, glad to see light on her wooden face. They had agreed not to talk about Byron's offer just yet, but more than once he had caught her looking out the window at the rose bushes in the backyard. He had to stop himself from doing the same thing the entire afternoon.

Once Jillian started the film, she crawled over to him, ignoring the UNO cards, and settled against him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He stroked her hair absently as the opening credits played, which was practically white noise after so many viewings.

He remembered the first time they had watched a B movie together. At that point, Jillian wanted nothing to do with him, still stewing over how he had coerced Clarrisa into turning her into a puppet. Slappy, under the reform spell, had to respect her wishes, much as he wanted to make amends. One day, Clarissa rented a few monster flicks to cheer Jillian up, and she sat with both puppets for three minutes before the phone rang. As the cheesy effects and costumes appeared on screen, Jillian made a comment on the ludicrosity. Slappy returned it with an observation. He couldn't remember what he had said, but for the first time Jillian smiled at him: a dry smile of agreement, but a smile nonetheless. It went on, their occasional remarks growing into a dialogue of quips. Clarrisa did not return, but Slappy wondered to this day if she had deliberately stayed away to let her new charges bond. When the movie finished, Slappy offered to pop in the next one, and Jillian did not seem to mind spending another two hours in his company.

( _Sap, sap, sap, sap…_ )

Slappy pressed his lips against Jillian's head, blocking everything else out.

All at once Jillian let out a startled gasp, rolling into the backrest.

Slappy sat up. "What happened?"

Fortunately, Jillian gave him a relaxed smile, which chased off the grim imagery which had risen in his mind.

"Felt a kick," she assured him. She patted her stomach. "This one is going to be strong, like you. I can tell."

She guided his hand to her belly. At first everything was still, then a tiny thump vibrated through the thin wood. Slappy stroked his thumb over the spot. No matter how many times it happened, he never got tired of experiencing little moments like these. He could remember when the first baby…

He closed his eyes, fighting down a wave of pain, keeping the gentle rhythm of his caress over the sign of life inside his bride. Struggling not to appear troubled — a lovely loophole of Clarissa's clumsy magic allowed him to mask his feelings to spare Jillian pain, even though he could not directly lie to her — he opened his eyes to smile at his bride, but she stared at her navel as the baby kicked again. A faint tremble shook her lip, so subtle that a normal human wouldn't have noticed.

But Slappy knew her wooden features too well now to misinterpret it. Her mind was where his had been a second ago, out in the backyard, wondering how many more of their children would wind up under a rose bush.

Impulsively, he cupped her face and brought her close for a kiss. She leaned into him. The sounds of the monster killing off its first victims in the opening barely registered to Slappy as he broke away.

"Let's do it," he rasped thickly, holding her. "Let's go with Byron."

She met his troubled eyes. "Are you sure?"

"It's worth a shot."

It said volumes that Jillian gave little resistance, except to say, "What about the reform spell?"

"Clarissa's magic has allowed for loopholes before. If I'm even contemplating…" He broke off, feeling like he might say too much.

Jillian gripped his suit. "If you think it's for the best," she murmured, hope starting to creep across her lovely face.

Slappy caressed the line down her back. "I'm protecting what I value most. What could be better than that?"

( _I just LOVE loopholes_.)

* * *

As nine o'clock approached the next morning, Slappy slipped quietly from bed, leaving Jillian asleep. He knew that there was something else Byron was hiding from them — Slappy had given enough fake smiles in his old life to recognize one on even a non-human's face. Whatever it was, something inside him wanted to keep Jillian from it until he knew more. There was no need to risk a fourth rose bush in the backyard.

( _You can't lie to her, but there's nothing forcing you to wake her up and let her hear the truth for herself. What are you afraid of, Slappy?_ )

He ignored the voice and went to the front door. He waited, leaning against the post and watching the morning sun send its beams through the green leaves of the tree in the yard. The grandfather clock in the hall started to strike the Westminster Quarters, and Byron's purple form came into view, strolling up the sidewalk with confidence. In seconds, he stood on the porch in front of Slappy.

"Well?" said Byron.

Slappy stayed against the door. "If I'm going to drag my pregnant wife into this, I need details," he said. "Operating expenses, room and board, the works."

Byron nodded with a smirk and reached into the pocket of his jacket, handing Slappy a thick envelope. "Everything should be explained in there. Panic Park has a weak connection with our world, but even though The Menace can't leave, _we_ can travel back and forth. You'll be able to hide out there in between scares. Jill will be treated to a room in Stagger Inn, which is in HorrorLand. She can hang out enjoying the 'doom service' while you work."

"And our payment?"

"The Menace has included details regarding a potion in the envelope. However, the ingredients you need are in his possession, which he'll pay up once he's back on Earth."

Slappy narrowed his eyes. "And how do I know all this is on the level?"

"If you were a genius like him, wouldn't you be interested in helping a doll give birth, if only to see if it's possible?"

Slappy said nothing.

Byron leaned back against the railing of the porch. "So, I've been wondering. How did you even get into this situation? I know the part about you forcing Clarrisa to change Jillian and Jillian turning the tables on you, but how did it all start?"

Slappy turned the envelope over, slowly tearing the seal of tape on the lip. "I've lived with all sorts of people over the years, both magical and mundane. I had heard stories of the Crystal Woman doing great and terrible things. Many people think Clarrisa is a powerful, evil witch because she has brought forth grave catastrophes. Imagine my surprise to find out most of her terrible deeds were actually accidental, and she's really just a softie."

Byron nodded. "I don't know if her good intentions make her even scarier or just pathetic."

( _I vote for both_.)

"At one point, I woke up in this town and discovered the Crystal Woman lived here. Naturally, I wanted to use this to my advantage."

"And where does Jillian come in?"

Slappy pulled out the folded paper from the envelope. "Jillian moved here because an elderly friend of the family needed a live-in assistant, and the local community theater was casting for comedy acts, so she saw it as an opportunity to further her dream of being an entertainer. She met Clarrisa through the elderly friend. On the day I found the Crystal Woman, Jillian had popped in for a visit."

"So, you saw a hot babe and wanted to marry her?"

Slappy fidgeted. "I'd met Jillian years ago. Seeing her again was too good to pass up. I knocked over a jar in the kitchen for Clarissa to investigate. Once she bent down to clean it up, I emerged from my hiding place and got her in a headlock, threatening to break her neck if she didn't help me get my bride. So, Clarissa granted my wish, turning Jillian into a puppet perfect for Slappy. What I didn't count on was how determined Jillian was. I had forgotten what a strong will she has when cornered. She managed to get Clarissa's magic crystal back to her, and it was Jillian who suggested using magic to force me to be good. I managed to knock Clarissa over, breaking the crystal, but the spell was already cast. I was stuck as a good puppet, and Jillian was stuck as a doll."

"But surely Clarissa got a replacement crystal?"

"Eventually, yeah, but those things involve specific procedures. If it had been anyone but Clarissa, Jillian might be a human right now, but by the time Clarissa got a functioning crystal, Jillian had agreed to marry me. So we stayed together."

"And the babies?"

Slappy shrugged. "Just an accident of Clarissa's magic, I guess. I did wish for Jillian to have a puppet body perfect for me, and I'd always wanted kids."

Byron nodded, crinkling his brow. "Could the miscarriages be part of the Crystal Woman's incompetence?"

"It's crossed my mind many times," Slappy answered. "Not that I can feel any lasting resentment toward her for it. The reform spell keeps me from even that."

Byron whistled. "Dude, I've seen a lot of stuff, but it's messed up if you're not even allowed to get mad with somebody who made your kids die."

Slappy did not reply.

"So it's settled," said Byron. "I'll pick you guys up tomorrow, and you'll get further instructions at the park."

"And does The Menace have any ideas of how I'm going to scare people when I'm under a reform spell?"

Byron's large face broke into a grin. "The best thing about shoddy magic is that it's a lot easier to exploit loopholes. I was going to wait to give this to you, but if you want it now…"

He pulled out a tiny vial filled with a purple liquid and swirly smoking. Byron tilted the bottle, letting the contents slosh around the inside.

"Drink this, and it should neutralize Clarissa's spell."

Staring, Slappy started to raise his hand to accept it, but something invisible violently forced it back to his side, nearly toppling him. He clenched his jaw, struggling to move.

Byron nodded knowingly. "You're forced to be good, right?"

"Right," Skappy rasped, still trying to move.

"And being good means taking care of your family, right?"

"Right."

All of Byron's teeth seemed to appear as his smirk widened. "Then doing _nothing_ to protect your family is downright evil. Like, if the only way to make sure your kid lives long enough to meet you is to take this potion, then you're being _more_ evil to refuse it than you would be in taking it."

Slappy widened his eyes.

"And to make it even easier for you, I can guarantee The Menace will not help you unless you drink this potion." Byron held out the bottle. "So, either you drink it, or you plant another rose bush in the backyard. Is that enough for you to fight the reform spell?"

Slappy gaped at him, but the pressure on his arm lessened. Quietly, he raised his hand once more, and Byron passed him the bottle, taking the precaution to open it for him.

"For your kid," Byron said.

"Bottom's up," said Slappy, raising the bottle in toast. Then, before he could change his mind, he threw his head back and chugged the potion. _For my kid_.

It was the last thought the reformed Slappy ever had before his body shook. He staggered against the door to keep his balance, but rather than fear, triumph filled him.

He opened his mouth and let out a long, wicked laugh, hanging against the post.

"I'm back, baby!" crowed the old and _true_ Slappy, finally free from his imprisonment.

* * *

Freedom. It was a delicious thing. Slappy had to contain his snickers as he moseyed toward the kitchen. As much as he would have loved to burst into the bedroom and taunt Jillian with his victory, he knew how to be patient. As livid as he had been over her wish, if he agitated her now, it could harm the baby.

He glanced toward the kitchen window as he entered the room. He could see the tops of the rose bushes swaying in the morning breeze.

 _First thing I'll do when we get back from HorrorLand is make Crystal Twit pay for what her magic did to you three_ , he vowed.

He turned toward the coffee maker and prepared the grounds for himself. A fleeting thought said this was something he could make Jillian do for him instead, but he knew better than to exert his dominance as her master right then. Jillian needed to believe her devoted hubby was still a model puppet, so that would mean he'd have to keep to the normal routine.

 _Besides, she needs to stay rested in her condition_ , he told himself. However, if he found a way to get a new slave, he could get that sap to wait on both him and his bride. Maybe The Menace could help there.

He set to work fixing a simple breakfast of dry toast and microwaved poached eggs, and the first plate was finished when Jillian shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes.

"Morning, gorgeous," he greeted her.

"Morning, handsome."

If only she knew who she was really directing that too!

Slappy set the plate before her as she sat at the low table. "Byron will be back tomorrow to take us to the park."

Her eyes widened. "So soon?"

"No time like the present, doll."

She sighed reluctantly. "Guess we might not be here when Clarissa gets back."

 _And lucky for her_. Slappy smiled. "I'm sure she'll be fine if we leave her a note. It's all for a good cause. The Menace and the park guests need to escape Panic Park, and we" — he touched her belly — "we need this baby."

Jillian nodded, laying her hand over his. "Yeah, you're right, sweetheart."

He leaned in, giving her a simple smooch for appearances — and he shuddered with delight as she returned it. Lightning sparked through him at the touch of her lips, thrilling him in a way he hadn't felt since their honeymoon. Stirrings awoke inside his hollow body, making him want more, but she broke away from him. Ignoring her breakfast for the present, she rested her dark head against his torso, oblivious to his yearning.

Slappy gulped air. As he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, he realized why such a chaste sample of osculation had affected him so significantly: he had never kissed Jillian as his true evil self. The other Slappy had enjoyed her, but the real Slappy had only watched the goodie-goodie live his life as if from a distance, trapped in some corner of his own mind.

Now he had his Jillian. Entirely as himself. And she was entirely his own.

He had to fight down his laughter. He distracted himself by running his hands up and down her smooth back. He found the closed hole beneath her green shirt, and he traced the line which separated and protected their child from the outside world.

All at once a different sort of emotion rose inside him, squelching the victorious titter he had been holding back. His eyes trailed to the window and the three rose bushes beyond it.

His children. Slappy's children. He had wanted them even before he had met Jillian. Still did. And he would do at least one good thing now with his life: he would make sure the child inside Jillian would live. And every child to follow would also be protected and valued, as any miniature version of Slappy ought to be.

He glanced at his bride once more and impulsively kissed the top of her raven head, squeezing her gently. She nestled further against him, love radiating in her caresses. Maybe she had kept him trapped all this time, but she _was_ the mother of his children. And a great kisser. For that, he decided then, he would make sure she'd be as comfortable as possible; what she didn't know couldn't hurt her — or any of the babies she would give him down the line.

And he planned for there to be several.

His fingers threaded through her black hair, and Jillian's gentle hands massaged his back in turn. He had her complete trust, and it filled him with a rush of power.

_It took me long enough, but I got my bride, and I'm evil at the same time. And with The Menace's help, I'll have a new baby in a few months. Who says you can't have it all?_

As much as he wanted to gloat over how he had beaten her dumb wish, he would keep up the Nice Guy act. At home, he would treat his willing, devoted Jillian like a queen, but in the wide, defenseless world, he would indulge in his vices, like a closet criminal keeping his misdeeds secret from his adoring family. That made it like a game. And Slappy excelled at games.

Speaking of which…

"Well, our suitcase won't pack itself. We'll start after breakfast," he suggested, reluctantly pulling himself from her side. He lifted her head to give her another kiss — another touch of lightning — and she smiled lovingly up at him, completely trusting.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of the rose bushes came from that one scene in _The Help_ , but miscarriage is something my family has dealt with multiple times.
> 
> The way I wrote Evil Slappy's thoughts was inspired by Chapter 4 of Cap'n Chryssalid's fic, "The Best Night Ever." How Slappy tells Byron that he knows about Horrors is inspired by Overly Sarcastic Productions' video, "Legends Summarized: The Journey To The West (Part V)."
> 
> I liked being able to do another fic involving Clarissa, even though she only had a short appearance. (This fic is not connected to "Rain" btw.) While this fic veers heavily from the established canon of the HorrorLand, at the same time I wanted to try something new.


End file.
